


Darkest Desire

by vxcerexne



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/F, F/M, Heaven, Hell, M/M, Retcon Timeline, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vxcerexne/pseuds/vxcerexne
Summary: A clash of divine and infernal desire as the world ends.





	1. Heir

"Long may the Antichrist reign!" they declared, praising him as the bringer of end times and kneeling before him. They bellowed "Hail Satan!" several times in the presence of their savior. Michael Langdon, the spawn of the living and the dead, was proclaimed the Crown Prince of Hell, and all those who worship his father were his loyal subjects. He was beautiful, angelic in appearance, as all bad things appear to be. A trick to the human eye, and a worthy representation of the son of God's former favorite. Michael felt power in his veins after swiftly cutting the throats of the two offerings to his father, and the encouragement and adoration of the Satanists made his chest swell. His icy blue eyes scanned the room at those donned in red cloaks, calculating as much as a lost man could. Perhaps these people could help him bring the downfall of the Coven, and serve him Cordelia Goode's head on a platter as the ultimate form of devotion. These people were sworn to his father, which in turn made them sworn to his, and they were all too willing to bend to his will. Madelyn kept her eyes trained on Michael, who met her eyes head on. Her face broke into a smile, the thin skin beneath her eyes crinkling with pride, making Michael's chest swell to the point of pain. Ms. Mead couldn't be here to see him, but Madelyn would do. 

It was thirty minutes after spilling blood that Michael was sat, uncomfortable under the Satanists' gaze, and nearly force fed their pot lock dishes. The high Michael felt earlier was long gone, and he felt lost and helpless once again. It was several days since he found Ms. Mead's body burned at the stake by the witches, and his father was of no help to him, not offering him any guidance or instruction. 

"You're the Antichrist, you must have some idea of how to bring on the end of the world," Madelyn urged, leaning on her elbows. Michael stared at her face, taking in the fine lines and unsuitable color of pink lipstick she wore, before his annoyance started to bubble over.

"I know, you people won't let me forget. And yet, being an Antichrist didn't come with a fucking instruction manual! My father isn't helping, you're not helping, and I don't know what I'm even supposed to do!" Michael's voice rose with each word until he was practically yelling in Madelyn's face. He was halfway out of his seat, gripping the plastic spoon so tightly in his hand that it snapped. Frustrated, he tossed it behind him, and slowly sat back down. His jaw was clenched as he spoke slowly. "Where do I even begin? How can I bring the Apocalypse when I can't even bring Ms. Mead back? I'm lost, and you people haven't given me anything to work with." 

Madelyn was silent for a minute, her eyes focused on part of the plastic spoon that broke off and landed on the table. Michael stared at her intensely through his eyelashes, his head down. 

"You are the son of Satan, his only heir on Earth. If Satan was a king, and you his heir, what would be the next step?" She asked. 

Michael shook his head in confusion. His eyebrows came together in a frown, creating a small crease in the space between, and his lips into a pout. "I don't know. My father isn't a king, I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"For you to secure your place, and secure the throne for your family for when it's time to become king yourself. We can bring your Ms. Mead back, and we can build a fail safe in case these witches get an upper hand." Madelyn's eyes burned with excitement. Michael pushed the paper plate in from of him to the side and leaned forward, still confused with what she was saying. Did she want him to impregnate some woman and force her to bear him children? Michael was just a child not too long ago, and didn't think fatherhood was the answer to destroying the Coven. 

"You want me to have children? That's your solution to helping me with the Apocalypse?" Michael's tone was sarcastic.

"Not entirely. It's a solution to your lack of numbers. These witches have a whole coven who use magic. Fifteen of them versus one of you. It would even the odds if you had more powerful, darker entities on your side that are entirely loyal to you." 

"Then why wouldn't I summon demons from the pits of Hell? Surely my father would loan them to me for a couple hours," Michael quipped, rolling his eyes and looking away from Madelyn.

"That too! Those demons aren't loyal to you, they're not even loyal to your father. They're trapped, and are forced to do your father's bidding. We can find you a suitable Black Bride, unless you have someone in mind," Madelyn offered up. 

Michael looked at Madelyn and looked away again. He did have someone in mind, the girl from the bookstore. It felt like years ago when he first met her. She was beautiful, and he was fixated on her the moment he walked into the store. He was still mentally a child, and broken over his grandmother's death and her rejection of him in the afterlife. Dr. Harmon was kind to him and treated him like a son. Michael wanted to get Dr. Harmon a gift, a book he would enjoy when he wasn't sobbing in front of the window and touching himself. Michael took whatever money Grandma had in her purse, and walked to the bookstore on Main Street called Murray's Marvelous Reads. He never went shopping for anything before, but went along with Grandma to the grocery store several times. He walked into the store, lost in thought of what he was looking for and how he would find it, completely unaware of the looks he was getting. Several women turned to see the man that just walked in, and couldn't tear their eyes away. 

Michael wandered around the store, not knowing what Dr. Harmon would like. A book on psychology maybe, but Michael didn't know for sure what Dr. Harmon would want to read about. He was started to get frustrated and anxious. He began clenching his jaw and his fists to keep himself from crying out of frustration while tears stung his eyes. 

"Excuse me? Do you need help finding anything?" A soft voice asked. Michael turned around and locked eyes with the woman. She was lovely, with brown hair and green eyes. She was the prettiest girl Michael had seen, and among the few he's ever really looked at. 

"Um, yeah. I'm looking for a book for Dr. Harmon, and I don't know what to get him. It's a present. He's been very nice to me, almost like a dad. I don't have a dad, so I want to get him something."

Her lips parted, and her eyes widened. Michael stared at her eyelashes, dark and lined with makeup, just like Grandma, only more subtle. He didn't know it, and wasn't aware, but she was instantly pitying him while also being incredibly attracted to him. 

"Well, what's he interested in? Does he like to cook? Or does he enjoy a good fantasy novel?" The woman offered up suggestions, trying to help him. He stared at her, his mind going blank.

"Psychology. He's a psychologist," Michael blurted out. The woman's face looked concerned, like she was worried about being attracted to a man who is seeing a psychologist and sees him as a father figure. 

"Come with me, and we'll find you something Dr. Harmon will enjoy," She said slowly while walking away. Michael quickly followed after her. 

They spent twenty minutes looking through psychology books, and finally settled on one. It was $60, and Michael hoped he had enough to pay for it. The woman rang the book up, and he handed her the money. He'd never been this nervous around anyone, and felt uneasy about finding a girl pretty. What would Grandma say? Not like it mattered, she wanted nothing to do with him anyway. He was a monster, and he felt like a monster. 

The woman, whose name tag Michael finally took notice of, was named Gabrielle. A pretty name.

"Have a nice day, and I hope Dr. Harmon enjoys the book. You'll have to come back and let me know. I think we picked out a good one." Gabrielle smiled warmly at Michael. The way she spoke was like she was telling him a secret, one only the two of them would know. Quiet and personal. Her skin looked soft, and he wanted to touch her gently. 

"Thank you Gabrielle, you have a nice day too." Michael smiled sheepishly and childlike. "My name's Michael by the way. I forgot to tell you, my grandma would be upset that I didn't introduce myself properly." 

Gabrielle's eyes softened. "Goodbye Michael." 

Michael thought about Gabrielle from the bookstore often, and he finally realized what Madelyn's suggestion would mean. This was a chance for Michael to take full advantage of who he was, of his heritage, and his appearance. 

"I do have someone in mind, Madelyn. I have the perfect person to stand beside me during the Apocalypse." Michael's handsome face broke into a devilish smile. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was dissatisfied and unhappy with how this season played out, especially the ending. I decided to retcon some things, and hopefully I can articulate how I wanted some things in Apocalypse to play out.


	2. Stealth

Michael had nothing to go off except her first name, Gabrielle. He didn't know anything else about her, or even where to find her. It frustrated him to be so in the dark about everything lately, and even regaining Ms. Mead courtesy of the feeble-minded and over-confident Jeff and Mutt of Silicon Valley, shined no light on the situation. Ms. Mead often stood there emotionless, staring off into space with a stern expression on her face unless prompted by Michael. There was no warmth and no life coming from the android replacement. The two visited Murray's Marvelous Reads to see if Gabrielle still worked there, but the visit wasn't fruitful. Ms. Mead drove while Michael sat stoic in the passenger's seat. The familiar neighborhood left a bitter taste in his mouth that tasted vaguely like his grandmother's perfume. Everything from the green leaves on the trees, the neatly kept lawns, to the way the sun was shining introduced a sadness he felt in his chest. When they finally arrived to the bookstore on Main Street, and Ms. Mead parked alongside the curb, Michael squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how to approach Gabrielle, or if he should even proposition her. How would that even work? Hello, I'm Michael Langdon. I'm the Antichrist, and I'm going to interest you in a wonderful opportunity: to stand beside me when the world ends. Also, I need you to bear me children. Michael adjusted his black velvet blazer before offering his arm to Ms. Mead. 

The new girl that worked there was a girl with long black hair and olive skin named Amna. Amna perked up upon seeing Michael, who was looking particularly luxe and exquisite. The two other middle-aged women in the store gaped at his appearance, causing the corner of his mouth to curl up into a smirk. Ms. Mead took initiative, asking the questions while Michael stood slightly behind her at the front counter. 

"I'm looking for a girl that worked here, Gabrielle. Do you know who I'm talking about?" 

Amna's dark eyes flickered from Ms. Mead to Michael quickly before she answered. "Um, no I don't. I just started working here last week. Do, uh, why are you looking for her? Must be some girl," Amna said nervously. Her interest in Michael went from shallow attraction to stomach churning uneasiness. His presence was affecting her negatively. This pleased him. It gave him a confidence boost. 

"Perhaps. Do you know anyone that works here that could help? Or who knew her when she worked here?" Ms. Mead questioned as she finally let go of Michael's arm.

Amna shook her head. She was afraid to look in Michael's direction now. 

"I don't think so. You could ask the manager, Liam, but he's out for lunch right now. He's been working here for five years, if anyone knows about this girl, it's him. You'll have to wait about half an hour, though." 

Michael didn't have half an hour to wait for the manager to get off his lunch break. He needed Gabrielle sooner rather than later, or else he was just handing the victory to the witches. He stepped forward, and it was like all the air went out of the store. The lights over head dimmed causing shadows to accentuate his features menacingly. Amna took a step away from the counter. 

"We don't have time to waste," Michael told her, his voice low and velvet. He placed his hands, sheathed in black leather, on the counter and leaned forward. "You will take us to the back room where the records are kept, and I will find Gabrielle out for myself." 

Amna stood frozen, her eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. Michael's lovely face broke into a smile just as quickly as it disappeared. "Go on." 

She backed away and hurriedly left to the back room, shaking her head like she'd been in a trance. The two customers in the store pretended like they didn't notice. Ms. Mead gave them a stern look, one that silently threatened them not to intervene or say a word. Michael and Ms. Mead waited for several minutes before he had a feeling Amna wasn't coming back out, which only furthered his annoyance. Why couldn't things just go his way without issue? He exhaled angrily through his nose, his chest along with his shoulders rising and falling. He took long strides and following the path Amna took to get out of his presence. He stalked the hallway slowly and let his ears listen for her through the doors lining the hallway. He heard a woman's sobs coming from the last door on the left. Without hesitation, he flung the door open, never once touching it with his hands. Amna screamed before muffling her sobs when she saw Michael standing there with his arms behind his back, and his expression severe. 

"Please don't hurt me. I-I was looking for the file, but I-" Michael cut her off by tilting his head to the right, and watched her face as an invisible hand choked the life out of her. The scared look on her face gave him power. He entered the room just as she fell to the floor lifeless. Her phone hit the floor before she did. Michael knelt down to look at her hollow eyes before glancing at her phone. She ended a call with her mother just before he found her. Fantastic. He would have to leave quickly. 

Michael flexed his hands, and the leather groaned with the movement. He opened a drawer to a filing cabinet labelled 'Employees'. He was momentarily pleased with how easy this part would be. He thumbed through each file quickly before finding what he came for. First name Gabrielle, last name Gregoire. Address: 313 Cape Street. Michael smiled, taking the file with him as he made his way out of the room and casually stepping over Amna's body before incinerating it out of existence. 

"Come on Ms. Mead, I found the file." 

Ms. Mead lifted her dark eyebrows and replied, "And that girl?"

"What girl?" 

* * *

Time was of the essence, and Cordelia knew she didn't have much time before Michael would be able to properly retaliate against her and her girls. She knew Mallory was her inevitable successor as Supreme, and she need her girls to stand strong with her if they were going to prevent the Apocalypse Michael was to bring. She knew it was his destiny to end the world, thanks to the plan his father set out for him. She offered him her hand and her help, but he rejected it and threatened to kill her and the whole coven that stood in his way. It was times like these that she wondered how Fiona would've handled Michael, and she knew Fiona wouldn't have offered Michael help. She would've tried to kill him on sight, and that was approach Cordelia just didn't have in her to use. 

She sat alone in her room at Miss Robichaux's, the fire lit, and her body weak. How was she going to win against him? She was just standing in the way of Mallory and her increasingly strong powers, which only caused Cordelia's to wane. Cordelia put a spell on Miss Robichaux's to prevent Michael from entering. This would give the girls some peace of mind as they prepared to fight against the Antichrist. Cordelia ordered Myrtle to help Zoe teach the girls useful spells to use against Michael because she needed to be alone to rest. Cordelia spent an hour pacing the length of the room, and another lying down on her bed on the verge of sleep. 

Cordelia almost fell into unconsciousness when she felt the room swelter with heat. She sat up, soaked in sweat. The fire was glowing hot from the fireplace, and the flames licked closer to her bed. Was this Papa Legba trying to make a new deal with her? The fire grew larger and hotter, and closer to Cordelia. She sat there, her face glistening from the heat. She began to mumble Latin, attempting a spell to reign in the flames. This caused the fire to respond in anger. Flames shot out of the fireplace and lashed out at her face, burning her cheek. She screamed and rolled off her bed onto the cool floor. 

Cordelia held her cheek as she looked through her hair at the flames. She saw something in those flames, something evil. Something like Michael, but not quite. Something worse....his father. He was warning her that his son wasn't alone, and that his powers weren't subject to a witch's supremacy. Making enemies of the Antichrist also meant making an enemy of Satan himself, and that Cordelia realized just as Myrtle and the girls burst through her door. 

The flames returned to normal, and Cordelia healed her cheek. 

 

 


	3. Affliction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a forewarning, there are some graphic and violent descriptions in this chapter.

The crisp evening air blowing in through the open window helped alleviate the sweltering heat boiling inside Gabrielle's room. Every night for the past week, the temperature in her room had been unbearable. She bought two box fans, which eventually quit working only days after purchase due to overuse in the thick air. She sat at her desk, a small fan pointed directly on her face as she tried to concentrate on the eight page paper at hand, due tomorrow in class. The length of her hair was thrown up and clipped at the top of her head, with the breeze from the widow drying the sweat dripping down the back of her neck. She wore a only a thin tank top, and sat in her red underwear, both damp and sticking to her skin. Her cheeks were flushed and her fingers kept slipping on the keys of her laptop. She focused on the tip of her nose as she felt a bead of sweat slide to the very tip before she felt it drip onto her upper lip. All of it was unbearable, and made absolutely no sense to her. The rest of the modest sized house was kept at a nice, mild temperature. Her roommates were comfortable and oblivious to the mysterious heat in Gabrielle's room. Why all of a sudden was her room such a hot box? The insulation was fine, and the evenings were cool all week. 

Gabrielle had also been having odd occurrences on campus, seeing a dark figure shadowing her in her classes, and lurking over her shoulder while she studied in the library. This figure brought with it a coldness and emptiness that Gabrielle could feel in her chest, pressing down until she would cough and her eyes would water. It scared her, and she didn't know what to do about it. No one would listen or take her seriously without also thinking her to be insane. And then there was the woman dressed in black. She was short in stature, and wore her hair short and black. Her lips were dark, and her aged face always stern. This woman would stand by her car, which would be parked on the side of the street by the house, and always just in Gabrielle's view just to watch her. She reported this to the campus security, who would assure her they would look into it, and then never follow up. Gabrielle felt like she was losing her mind, and had never felt so unsafe in her life. Just the thought of that woman possibly sitting outside the house right now, down the street or next door, watching had her heart beating faster.

Gabrielle tried to maintain a level of concentration on her paper, finding it harder and harder to keep writing as she felt exhaustion set in. The heat was making her sleepy, and the release of tension in her body didn't help either. She was only halfway done with the paper when her eyelids began to droop, so she reasoned that she could nap for about half an hour and it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Her body began to feel numb, and her extremities became too heavy for her to lift. She was dead weight when her body slumped in the chair and fell to the floor with a loud thud. No one was home to check on her anyway. 

* * *

_The images moved too fast for Gabrielle to make sense of at first, with outlines of people, and flashes of bright lights and loud noises making her nauseous flashing before her eyes akin to a strobe light. The sensory overload was met with a wave of hot then cold crawling over her skin, before her vision went to black. She would open her eyes again where her eyes were aligned with the cold, smooth cement floor. She sat up and looked around. She was in a long hallway, with the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed loudly in her ears. She stood up slowly, her legs shaky. She could hear screams and cries which caused her heart to speed up. She walked slowly to the first room, and the door was shut. She could hear soft cries and what sounded like water dripping. Wrapping her hand on the doorknob, she turned it and cracked open the door to peer into the room. There was a man lying on a gurney, and he was a bloody mess. His torso was butchered, having been cut open and the skin pinned back with something sticking out. Gabrielle entered the room to get a closer look and felt bile rise in her throat. His ribs were pulled up and out in the fashion of a blood eagle, and his organs were all removed, and resting inside his stomach was the rotting head of a goat. The smell was foul._

_"Please," The man uttered, and Gabrielle felt tears prick her eyes and a knot in her throat. How was he still alive? She tripped over her feet as she tried to get out of the room, and hit her head on the cement floor, and gasped as she felt herself fall into a warm puddle of blood. She screamed into blackness as her vision gave out again._

_When her vision returned, she was in another room. This one was lit neon red, dizzying Gabrielle, and making it hard for her eyes to focus. She was sat up in a corner of the room, while four people were on their knees on a bed on the opposite side. Making up the four people was two men and two women, all of whom were naked touching each other. Gabrielle could hear the sound of skin rubbing against skin, and moans. She felt uncomfortable as she watched one of the women suckle at the others' breast until the moans became screams. The woman pulled away, blood from her mouth pouring down her chin to her neck, with the other's nipple still between her teeth. Despite her screams, the woman began smearing her blood across her body, and on one of the men. The gentle passion soon gave way to mutilation until everything was covered in blood. This all looked like black ink to Gabrielle in the red light, and the mutilation became increasingly violent, and peaked when one of the men penetrated the woman whose breasts were gnawed on by the other, with a phallic sex toy with shards of glass protruding from it.  
_

_Gabrielle felt nauseous to her core, and nearly emptied her stomach on the floor when the people stopped in their depravity. Their heads tilted back, mouths gaping, as a distorted gurgling noise came from the back of their throats. It's like they were saying something in a primitive language she didn't understand. The red lighting bled into blackness as Gabrielle felt something pull at her. She blinked once, and the scene before her changed again. She stood before a fireplace, and she felt the flames lick at her fingertips. She felt the presence of a body standing not too far behind her. She turned around and saw the back of a man wearing a black uniform, the pants stopping just above the ankles. His hair was strawberry blond and formed little curls just behind his ears._

_Gabrielle could move from side to side, but never forward. It's like she wasn't allowed to see him, like a force was holding her back on purpose. She stepped to his left and saw four men seated at a table, their attention focused on the man standing before her. That same man held one arm out first before raising it above his head, adding a flourish with the delicate flick of his wrist. He repeated this action with his other arm, his palms presented to the sky, and to Gabrielle's disbelief she watched as snow began to fall. All but the man on the far end of the table, his face gave nothing away but disapproval, were impressed and delighted. One of them laughed heartily, declaring it magnificent and beautiful. Gabrielle looked at the floor, her feet were covered in a solid inch of snow._

_And then something changed. The man lowered his arms, still outstretched, and a low noise hummed in Gabrielle's ears. In a single movement, the fire went out and the room went to a cold gray. The men at the table began to clutch their arms close to their bodies, and their breath was visible with the physical temperature change. The snow came down harder, and she felt the coldness too. She fell to her knees and sunk her hands into the snow. She felt a familiar dark shadow loom over her._

_"Enough!" The stout, mustachioed man cried out._

_Gabrielle took a deep breath, burning her throat and lungs in the cold air, and closed her eyes._

_"Um, yeah. I'm looking for a book for Dr. Harmon, and I don't know what to get him. It's a present..."_

_She stood in the Murray's Marvelous Reads, she hadn't been there in a long time, not since she quit. She saw herself, doe-eyed and looking to please the strawberry blond man in front of her. God, he was beautiful and naive, and she wanted to cut her hands on his sharp cheekbones. She stood behind him as she had in the library with the fireplace, unable to view his face. This couldn't be the same guy. Gabrielle wanted to reach for him, but felt an invisible force stopping her. Oh, what was his name?_

_"...I hope Dr. Harmon enjoys the book. You'll have to come back and let me know..." He never did. She left the door open for him to come back so she could see him again. His name, what was his name?_

_She felt her lips form the letters before the name even registered in her mind.  
_

_Michael._

_He turned around, and his icy blue eyes met hers._

_"Gabrielle."_

_She focused on his full, shapely lips, melting at the way they held her name on them. Before anymore could be said, Gabrielle felt herself gaining consciousness, and as she faded, she heard Michael say something inaudible._

* * *

Gasping, Gabrielle woke up, absolutely soaked in sweat. 

"Holy shit, are you okay?" Her roommate, Aella, stood in the door way with her eyes wide and her brow furrowed. Gabrielle reached to touch her throbbing nose, and pulled her hand back to find blood. 

"I don't think so."


	4. Noctem

"We need to get the hell away from here, Max, I mean it. Ariel Augustus and Baldwin Pennypacker were going to let the actual fucking Antichrist take over for the warlocks just to get a leg up on the witches. I'm not going to lie, for a brief period of time, I thought Michael Langdon was going to be the Alpha and usurp Cordelia Goode as the Supreme, but that was until I was murdered by one of his Satanic lackeys at a fucking gas station. Yet again, we warlocks are indebted to the witches because surprise, surprise, guess who brought me back," John Henry spoke into his phone as he wandered aimlessly down the aisles in the convenience store looking for snacks for the long drive ahead. The store clerk stood behind the counter, watching John Henry closely, intrigued by the tall, dark haired man and his haughty attitude the minute he walked in.

The fluorescent lights overhead were giving off a low hum, and the one above the refrigerated drinks was flickering. It was just after dusk, and John Henry was essentially making a run for it while he could, at least before Michael caught wind of his resurrection at the hands of the Coven. Truthfully, John Henry was grateful for the young witch and the hands that brought him back, but was naturally bitter for remaining in debt to the witches. Of course, his brothers were too busy using Michael as a vessel to propel the warlocks to the status they saw as deservedly theirs--that being above the witches that had put them down for so long--and knowingly encouraged the Antichrist to infiltrate Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men just to crown a warlock Supreme. And regretfully, John Henry went along with it despite his initial hesitation at the dark magic Michael displayed. Going against Michael got him killed in the first place, and he wasn't about to die at the hands of the Antichrist this time.

"He's going to snuff out us, and the witches, and anyone else that poses a significant threat to him. Biblically speaking, he's here to the end the world, and I don't know about you, but neither us nor the most powerful Supreme can defeat the Antichrist."

John Henry grabbed a couple bags of chips and a candy bar before going to the refrigerated section and scanning the drinks. He continued talking on the phone to his fellow warlocks friend when he felt a gust of cool air. The bell above the door rang as someone entered. John Henry glanced up, but didn't bother looking too closely as he settled for a bottle of water. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder to grab the water, and the flickering light above finally went out. Startled, he looked up, his worst fears getting the better of him momentarily.

"I was at Robichaux last week, and they know they've got their work cut out for them, but knowing Cordelia she thinks she can save the fucking world. Leave it to the witches to think their power can surpass Satan's literal fucking son," John Henry continued, now having all his snacks in his arms. He made his way to the front counter when all the lights overhead went off one by one. He felt too warm for comfort, and he started to perspire. He made eye contact with the store clerk, whose face was stoic and serious.

"Max, I-I've gotta go."

The man behind the counter was handsome enough for John Henry's tastes, perhaps under different circumstances he would venture to flirt, but there was something sinister behind his empty smile. John Henry put his items on the counter before glancing at the store windows, everything seemed normal, but his gut told him something was very off. He eyed his car, and the car parked behind it, a convertible. 

"Will that be all for you, Sir?" The man asked, his voice disturbing to John Henry's ears. It was deep and distorted, alarming him.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, will that be all for you?"

John Henry stared into the man's eyes, and his chest began to feel heavy and tightening.

"I-on second thought, I don't want any of this anymore. I'm going to head on out, gotta get on the road."

The man's eyes were black, and his pallor unusual. He reached out and grabbed John Henry's wrist, which was met with John Henry waving his hand and sending him flying into the shelves of cigarettes that stood behind him. This did nothing to faze the store clerk, who merely stood back up and cracked his neck from side to side. John Henry waited with apprehension, thinking Michael would reveal himself, but he didn't. The man turned back around, and moved with inhuman speed, sliding across the counter with ease and moved to wrap his hands firmly around John Henry's throat. John Henry held up his hands, effectively freezing the man in place, who was snarling and biting at the air in John Henry's direction.

"What the fuck are you? More importantly, _who_ the fuck are you? You're one of Michael's little henchmen aren't you? Well you're messing with the wrong fucking warlock," John Henry taunted, his mind racing at the ways in which he ought to finish this little hellion off.

Just as John Henry raised his right hand, a needle was pressed into his neck. It stung, and whatever was injected into him, burned before numbing. John Henry let the store clerk fall to the floor as he turned his head to see a smaller robed figure, whose face was obscured by a hood. The person pulled the hood down, revealing herself to be an older woman with long brown hair, and finely wrinkled skin.

"What-" And John Henry fell to the floor on top of the store clerk, who lay unconscious. Whatever had possessed him had long since left his body.

"Hail Satan," Madelyn exhaled proudly. 

* * *

 Michael bid his time as well as he could given the circumstances. He planted seeds in Gabrielle's mind each time he could get through to her since the first. He showed her the mother-son relationship with Ms. Mead and the witches burning her alive at the stake, the mentor-mentee relationship with Ariel and Baldwin, which also resulted in their deaths alongside Ms. Mead. He showed her the ego of Cordelia, who thought her power was infinite given her status as Supreme, as well as the abuse he endured during the interrogation at the jail, and his pain at the hands of the witches. Each night when Gabrielle would go to sleep, Michael would worm his way into her mind, and show her these things. They would both eventually wake up, noses bleeding, and drenched in sweat. The last night he did this, he asked her if he could see her, and that he needed her help. Gabrielle relented, and said yes. One of the members of the Church was ready and willing to act as chauffeur to the Antichrist, and would gladly let Michael slit his throat open when the day was done. Michael had it planned in his mind, that he would bring Gabrielle to Ms. Mead's house and woo her before she gave in. He would bed her and wait for his seed to be planted and grow. He did not need her as his wife, he needed her body as a vessel to carry and birth the fruit of his loins. Michael was told as such by a high ranking official that ran the Church, who lived in the shadows and was rarely seen, if ever.

Michael was intrigued by this mysterious higher up, who considered himself Satan's left hand if his own son was his right. Madelyn and the other members of the Church were scared to say his name, Lucian, and claimed the only persons to have seen him are dead now. Michael requested a meeting with Lucian, who accepted. When Michael met Lucian, he was in awe of the entire spectacle. Lucian was based out of a sprawling manor on the outskirts of town, in the opposite direction of Hawthorne. It was all very cliché for Michael, from the opulent décor and dark Edwardian menswear of Lucian, to his powdery pale skin and long white hair. Lucian was condescending and rude to Michael, acting like a father who would never be satisfied by the efforts of his son. Lucian denounced Madelyn's ideas for a black wedding, and binding Michael to a worthless human by blood.

"You don't need to fuck her to impregnate her. Some of the best minds in medicine are indebted to Satan, and will do their best to ensure his son is not without issue. Copulation isn't a guarantee, and is often hit or miss. Some people take years to conceive, and we don't have years. Artificial insemination is how we will definitively know your seed does its job. Whether or not this woman can survive the birth, let alone the pregnancy, will remain to be seen. I imagine a human woman giving birth to any spawn of Satan's lineage won't make it out alive. Just look at your birth mother," Lucian drawled, lounging in his velvet cushioned chair, looking like a stereotypical film villain.

When the car pulled up to the curb in front of the house, and Gabrielle was waiting, wearing a short blue dress and her hair down. Michael felt his stomach tighten. Sure, she was lovely to look at, but did she deserve this? Her eyes were wide and scared, but he could feel desire radiating off her. He knew she thought he was beautiful, and he would rely on this to get to her.

The driver, James, scrambled to get out of the car and open the door for her. She smiled and thanked him, and was hesitantly to get in the backseat with Michael. He thrived off the unease others felt around him, it was fear, and fear was key. Michael reached for her hand, his red leather gloves encircled hers, and brought it to his lips. He noticed her breath catch, and his eyes trained on her lips and their subtle parting at the contact.

"I'm glad you decided to join me, Gabrielle. You look lovely," Michael complimented, never once taking his eyes off her. This made her uncomfortable, and she looked everywhere nervously but at him.

"Oh, um, thank you. You look....a lot different from the last time I saw you," She responded. She looked down at her dress, smoothing it out, feeling underdressed compared to him.

The corners of Michael's mouth turned up into a smirk. He stared at her profile, a strong one with a pointed nose and high cheekbones. Her jawline feminine, but prominent, rivalling his.  

"Dr. Harmon liked the book. I was happy he liked the present we got him."

Gabrielle relaxed a bit, looking out the window before looking back at Michael. She gave him a shy smile because she didn't know what else to do.

"I...I hope I can be of some help to you. It's awful what those witches did to your aunt, and those warlocks. I don't fully understand the magic aspects, and I don't have any of the powers any of you do, so I don't really know how I can help. You were nice to me when I first me you, and so sweet too." Gabrielle smiled almost to herself at the memory. He did too.

"You'll be plenty of help, Gabrielle. I could do it without you, but I don't want to take that option. You are one of my strongest allies," Michael assured her with conviction. "I need you to do this with me, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

She stared him in the eyes for the longest time before glancing down at her hands in her lap. She nodded. "Yes, I think so."

Michael smiled, brushing her hair behind her shoulder gently and leaning back in the seat. He rested a hand on her knee, pushing the fabric away. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her posture returned to its initial rigidity. Michael gazed out the window at the dark sky and stars. Everything was going according to plan.

 


End file.
